


Through the Keyhole

by clgfanfic



Category: Adventures of Brisco County Jr., Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you overhear can shock you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Keyhole

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #10 under the pen name Kai O'Thay. Thanks to Smythe for her help.

     Socrates Poole rubbed damp palms down the front of his suit jacket, then opened the large, front ornate doors of the Cattlemen's Association.  A smile erupted across his face. 

     They were exactly what he'd imagined.  Handsome, confident, dignified.  In their mid-forties, both men still looked young and vital.  And rich, he added silently.  But, then, they did own one of the most successful horse ranches in the bay area, and were active in real estate, mining, and imports.  Not to mention several popular hotels and saloons they'd acquired.  Very diversified.  A strategy he'd have to think about more in the future.  It might be the coming thing, as Briscoe called it.

     "Gentlemen, welcome.  Please, come in."

     The two men exchanged glances, then stepped into the foray.

     They were curious and a little apprehensive.  Well, that was to be expected.  After all, they were still celebrities, and no doubt people made unreasonable demands on their time and good natures.

     "I'm Socrates Poole,"  he said, extending his hand.  "Mr. Heyes." 

     Hannibal Heyes shook, his gaze sweeping over the expensive paintings and bricobrac that decorated the entrance.

     "Mr. Curry,"  Poole continued.

     The Kid shook hands, saying, "Pleased to meet you."

     "If you'll follow me, I'm sure you'll be more comfortable waiting in the salon.  I'm not sure what's keeping Mr. County and Lord Bowler, but I'm sure they'll be here just as soon as they can."

     Heyes and Curry followed Poole, smiling occasionally when he glanced excitedly over his shoulder. 

     Socrates was sure Heyes and Curry would be able to help Briscoe.  And, more than that, it was an opportunity for him to spend time with two men who had given his employers more headaches than they could count.  Quite an accomplishment.  He sighed contentedly.  The two most successful outlaws in the history of the West, and they were his guests...

     "We really are very grateful that you agreed to come by and speak to us,"  he chatted.  "I'm sure you're both very busy."

     "It's the least we can do,"  Heyes said as they entered a large, masculine, but comfortable salon.  "Considering all the... uh... capital your employers supplied us over the years." 

     Curry chuckled.

     "Um, yes, I did hear a great deal about that when I suggested we contact you,"  Poole replied seriously, then grinned.  He gestured to a large leather couch across from a cold flagstone hearth.  Heyes and Curry made themselves comfortable.

     Poole was a little surprised with their casual dress, both men wearing workclothes.  Their honestly-earned wealth obviously hadn't made them pretentious.  Crossing to a small bar, he poured each of his guests a glass of imported brandy. 

     Carrying the two glasses over, he handed them to the two ex-outlaws.  "I'm sure they'll be here shortly.  Briscoe and Bowler are getting the last minute details for the trip sorted out."

     Heyes took a sip of the dark amber brandy and sighed appreciatively.  "Excellent,"  he complimented.  He looked at Poole.  "We're in no rush."

     Socrates shifted anxiously under Heyes' sudden scrutiny.  He positioned himself on a fancy-carved wooden chair a slight distance away.  "This trip is going to be dangerous, isn't it."

     It wasn't a question, and Poole saw Heyes and the Kid exchange empathetic glances. 

     "Yes.  It is,"  Heyes replied.  "Devil's Hole country is still pretty wild, despite all the progress the country's making."

     Poole fidgeted.  "I was afraid of that."

     "From what I hear,"  Curry said.  "Briscoe and Bowler are good at what they do."

     "So is Bly,"  Poole stated.  "And I'm sure they'll be all right.  I'm concerned that Bly might have found a location that can't be penetrated."

     Heyes grinned, his eyebrows hiking slightly at Poole's choice of words.  "Oh, it can be penetrated all right,"  he assured.  "You just have to know how."

     "Yep,"  Curry added, his own grin spreading.  "Ain't that the truth."

     Poole studied Heyes.  If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was being teased.  He took a deep breath and challenged, "All right, if there is a hidden way in, why didn't the lawmen of your day find it?"

     Heyes leaned back, relaxing against the sofa.  "Oh, it's not that obvious."  He took a sip of the brandy.  "Devil's Hole used to be Indian stomping grounds.  Tall, red-headed Indians, in fact."

     "I think I read something about that,"  Poole admitted, trying not to stare.

     "That was long before Big Jim Santana found the Hole and turned it into a hideout."

     "And how is that going to help Briscoe?"

     "We found it by mistake,"  Curry explained.

     "There's an old trail the Indians used to get into and out of the Hole,"  Heyes elaborated.  "Kind of a... back door, I guess you'd say."

     "I see,"  Poole said, feeling better about his friends' upcoming mission, but more sure than ever that he was being teased.  "So it's not likely that Bly and his gang will have found this... uh... back door."

     Heyes shook his head.  "No.  I fact, it would take a minor miracle for Mr. County and Bowler to find it."

     The concern returned in a rush.  "What if they can't?"

     Curry leaned forward.  "They won't."

     "Then how--"

     "We're going to show them where it is,"  Heyes explained.

     Poole's eyes rounded.  "You?  You're going to Devil's Hole?"

     "Not after Bly,"  Curry said.  "That's not our job.  We'll take County and Lord Bowler in, then it's up to them."

     "That's the best news I've heard all day,"  Briscoe said, walking into the salon, Bowler at his heels.

     "Me, too,"  the large black man echoed, his eyes sweeping over the two guests, sizing them up..

     Heyes and Curry stood.  Briscoe and Bowler crossed to the sofa, the men exchanging handshakes.

     "Pleased to meet you,"  Briscoe said.

     "Yeah, me, too,"  Bowler added.  "Good thing you're retired."

     "I think we agree,"  Curry replied, his head tilting up slightly to meet Bowler's gaze.

     The large back man chuckled.  "Well, I'm not.  You're the only two who stood a chance of giving me a challenge bounty huntin'."

     "Now I'm very glad we retired,"  Heyes said.

     The men settled themselves, Poole pouring glasses of brandy for Briscoe, Bowler, and himself. 

     Briscoe accepted the drink, then leaned forward in his chair.  "It seems we have another problem."

     "Oh?"  Poole asked. 

     Heyes and Curry waited patiently for the younger man to explain.

     "Bowler and I have it on good authority that Bly transported a safe up to Devil's Hole."

     "A safe?"  Heyes asked, shifting forward.  "I'll bet that took some effort."

     "Why would he need a safe?"  Poole asked.

     Bowler shook his head.  "Who can guess what Bly's got planned."

     "But I have a feeling we're going to need to get into it."  Briscoe met Heyes' curious gaze.  "I can understand your reasons for not wanting to go into Bly's camp with us, but I'd appreciate it if you could show Bowler and I how to open that safe."

     "What kind is it?"  Heyes asked, obviously trying not to sound too excited about the prospect.

     "An older model,"  Bowler told him.  "Pierce and Hamilton '78."

     Heyes' eyes went wide, a large smile settling on his face.  "I see.  Do you need to open it with or without damaging what's inside?"

     "Without,"  Briscoe said.  "If it was worth the effort to get that safe up there, it's worth the effort for us to make sure we see what's in it."

     "Well, I'd be more than happy to show you,"  Heyes said.

     "Great,"  Briscoe said, standing.  "That's why Bowler and I were delayed.  We were checking around to see if there was one locally we could get access to."

     "Did you find one?"  Poole asked, watching Heyes from the corner of his eyes.  The older man was obviously enchanted with the idea of dabbling in his old craft. 

     "Sure did,"  Bowler said.  "Mr. Rothman's got one in his office at the First Bank of San Francisco.  Said he keeps it around as a memento of older days."

     Curry made a small face.  "Older days?  It wasn't that long ago."

     "Almost twenty years, Kid." 

     "Thanks, Heyes, I was trying not to think about that,"  Curry grumbled.

     "Well, lead the way,"  Heyes said.  "But we'll have to stop along the way for a few items."

     "I think I'll just wait here,"  the Kid said.  "I've seen this trick a few times already."

     "Well, make yourself at home, Mr. Curry,"  Poole said.  "If you need anything, just ring, and Mai Li Sung will get it for you."

     Curry nodded, watching the foursome leave, Heyes looking like a kid on his way down to Christmas.  He shook his head, then settled back against the sofa arm for a nap.

 *******

     "Bris-coe.  Bris-coe!"

     Curry sat up with a start.  There was a stranger in the house.

     "You-who... Bris-coe!  Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

     Correction, someone strange was in the house.

     He stood and walked to the salon door.  A younger man dressed in black was making his way down the hallway.  His blond hair was long, and he wore a sidearm tied down.

     "Bris-coe?  Ollie's, Ollie's ox is free."

     Stranger than most, the Kid concluded.  The accent was hard to place.  Curry hoped the younger man was a friend of County's.

     "He's not here,"  the Kid stated simply.

     The young man's head snapped up, his gaze fixing on Curry.  "Who - are - you?"  he asked, the words carefully spaced for clarity as he sauntered up to join the Kid.

     "Jed Curry."  He extended his hand, and the visitor accepted it, giving it a single, almost feminine shake.

     "Curry... Curry... Jed Curry... where have I heard that name before..."  The man's eyes popped wide.  "Kid Curry?"

     "That was a long time ago,"  the Kid said, dipping his head just slightly in embarrassment.

     "The Kid Curry?"

     "Yes, but--"

     "Well, can you imagine,"  the visitor said, taking a step back.  He studied Curry intently for a moment, then dropped to his knees in front of the Kid.  His arms up, he bent forward, saying, "I ain't worthy.  I ain't worthy."

     Curry took a quick step back.  Definitely strange.  "Uh, uh, I, uh..."

     The visitor sprang to his feet.  "Kid Curry."  He swiftly circled the Kid.  "I don't believe it.  I really don't.  Why, you're one of my idols."

     The Kid's eyes widened.  "Idol?"

     The stranger nodded, back in front of Curry.  "Yep.  Why, when I was a little guy I used to read everything I could find on you and Heyes.  Collected it.  Kept it in an ol' oat sack out in the barn.  Even got together with other up-and-coming wanna-be outlaws and wrote our own Heyes and Curry adventures.  Nobody'd buy 'em 'cept other wannabes like us, so we passed 'em around..."

     Curry felt his chest puff.  Imagine, Kid Curry, a role model for American youth...  "I never knew.  I mean, that's really something.  A real compliment."

     "We met once a year to share our in-ventions."

     "Oh?"

     "Yep, at con-inventions."  The man's eyes narrowed.  "We were mor-ti-fied when you and Heyes decided to go straight."

     "Well... the time's was changin'.  Heyes and me had to change with them.  You're an outlaw?"

     The stranger drew himself up.  "I am.  Cer-ti-fied."

     "Certified?"  More like certifiable.

     "Yep, got a degree in crime-in-ology."

     "Where's Ology?"

     "Don't have a clue,"  Pete admited, then smiled.  "Wanna see my curriculum v'tay?"

     Curry's brow wrinkled as he tried to decide if the man was mad or just... unique.  "What name do you do your outlawin' under?"

     "Pete."

     "Pete.  Just Pete?" 

     "Why?"  The man's eyes narrowed again.  "Ain't that enough?"

     Curry considered that for a moment, then the memory clicked.  "Say, you don't happen to be the same Pete who painted a canyon wall so it looked like a road, are you?"

     Pete beamed.  "I am."

     "That was very nice.  Scenic.  Very realistic."

     "Not real enough,"  Pete muttered.  "Dang-blasted stagecoatch driver..."

     "Look, why don't you come on into the salon.  Briscoe'll be back pretty soon now, I guess.  I'll pour you a brandy."

     "Why thank you,"  Pete said.  "Don't mind if I do."

     Curry led the way back into the salon.  At the bar he refilled his glass and filled one half-way for Pete.  He handed the blond the glass.

     "Thank you,"  Pete said.

     "You're welcome."

     Pete took a sip, then walked over and dropped down onto the couch.  "They said you were so fast you didn't have to kill anyone.  You just out drew 'em and chased 'em off."

     The Kid grinned into his glass.  "I'm still fast,"  he said.  "But that's true.  Heyes and I didn't abide with killing."

     Pete nodded thoughtfully.  "So you never... you know... shot somebody... dead?"

     Curry walked across the room, then paused, staring down into the cold fireplace.  "No.  There were a few along the way."

     Pete bounced off the sofa.  "Still fast, huh?"

     The Kid shrugged, playing it down. 

     "Show me?"

     Curry's head snapped up.  "What?"

     "Show me,"  Pete repeated.  "Please?"

     The pathetic pleading was hard to ignore.  "I-- I don't think so."

     "Oh please, please, please, please."  The tips of Pete's boots tapped petulantly on the hardwood floor.

     Curry sucked in a deep breath.  "Okay, but we don't have to actually shoot anything... like each other."

     Pete's hands flew up in a gesture of pacification.  "Oh, absolutely."  He quickly removed the bullets from his Colt.

     The Kid did the same. 

     That chore taken care of, the pair positioned themselves in the center of the room.  Facing each other about six feet apart the two gunfighters dropped into their respective 'fast draw' stances.  The Kid noticed that Pete favored a Jesse James crouch, with a Cole Younger hand position.  Interesting combination.

     "I'll count to three,"  Pete said.  "Then we draw.  Okay?"

     The Kid nodded. 

     "One... two... three!"

     Pete blinked, then realized that he was staring down the barrel of Kid Curry's revolver, his own just clearing his holster.  "Well, I'll-- That was the fastest-- You--"  Pete lunged forward, grabbing the Kid's arm.  "Oh, Kid, I want to learn the ways of the Curry fastdraw and become a legend just like you are."

     "Pete,"  Curry said, frantically trying to come up with an excuse.  "Your path... it, uh... lies along a different road than mine.  Besides, I'm retired, remember."

     Pete considered that.  "Well... okay... I guess."

     Curry sighed with relief.  Grasping for a way to change the topic, he nodded at Pete's sidearm.  "Uh, nice lookin' piece you have there."

     "You like my piece, Kid?"

     "Huh... yes.  Yes, I do."

     "You wouldn't be sayin' that just to make me happy, would you?"

     "Oh, no,"  the Kid said, wishing Heyes and the others would get back.  "I, uh, really like it, Pete.  It's a privilege just to see it."

     Heyes and Briscoe led the way down the hallway, Bowler and Poole two steps behind them.  All four men stopped when they heard voices echoing out of the salon.

     "Would you like to touch it, Kid?"

     "Huh...?"

     "I'll even let you... play with her..."

     Despite their best intentions the men exchanged slightly embarrased, confused expressions.

     Heyes' gaze fixed on Briscoe.  "This Pete a friend of  yours?"

     "Pete?"  Bowler whispered, stepping up behind County.  "Wasn't he dead the last time we saw him?"

     "Yeah,"  Briscoe sighed.  "But you know Pete, he takes a licking and keeps on ticking."

     All four heads snapped forward as the conversation continued.

     "Pete, this is really a... precious gift you're sharing with me..."

     "She likes you, Kid.  I can tell.  Look at the way she dances in your hand.  You're good with her.  It's no wonder you're a legend."

     "I think we better get in there,"  Heyes said.

     "You have to understand about Pete..."  Briscoe countered.

     "Oh, I know all about Pete,"  Heyes replied in a low growl.

     Poole's eyes rounded.  "Oh, no, no, he's not like that..." 

     "What's Pete not like?"  Lord Bowler asked softly.  "Pete's not like anything... human."

     "Like that..."  Poole repeated.

     "I don't know,"  Briscoe countered.  "Pete swings in a lot of different directions..."

     "Ya wanna spin the chamber, Kid?"

     "Huh... it's not loaded... right?"

     "Give it a spin and we'll see.... oh, yeah... now, get a real good grip on her and I'll show you something truly special."

     "O-Okay.  I'm ready."

     "We're gonna pull the trigger, Kid."

     Heyes grabbed Briscoe's shirt sleeve.  "What the hell kind of guy is this?"

     "It's his gun,"  Socrates squeaked.  "His gun!  Pete's in love with his gun."

     "I knew some guys like that,"  Heyes argued.

     Briscoe grinned.  "I think what Soc is getting at is the fact that the basis of all erotica is innuendo."

     Bowler chuckled.  "I guess that Harvard education didn't teach you about all the commin' things, did it?"

     Briscoe shot Bowler a quick double take.

     "Now, Kid.  Now.  She's ready.  Give her a squeeze."

     "You're sure?

     "Oh, yeah.  Do it, Kid.  Squeeze my piece?"

     "Well... okay..."

     "Oh, yes, yes, yes!  I don't believe it!  Kid Curry squeezed my piece.  I've never been so fulfilled in my entire life."

     "Glad I could help, Pete."

     "I used to write about things like this, but I never thought it would.  I'd be Heyes, and you'd be Kid Curry -- since you are and all.  The posse'd shoot us up real bad... the hair falling in your eyes... you'd reach out to me and say:  Pete, I gotta have your piece.  And I'd let you have her, Kid, but I never thought--  You touched my piece, Kid.  Thank you." 

     Heyes took the lead, stalking into the salon.  "Kid, I think you've been holding out on me."

     Curry spun to meet his partner's semi-concerned, semi-amused gaze, his cheeks turning a beautiful shade of crimson.  "I, uh... I... this is Pete."

     "Briscoe,"  Pete said proudly, "This - is - Kid - Curry."

     "So we heard,"  Bowler drawled.

     "You have a legend in the house!"  Pete declared.

     Poole pulled himself up.  "We have two legends.  Pete, this is Hannibal Heyes."

     Pete's eyes widened and he snatched his hat off, covering his heart.  "The Hannibal Heyes?"

     Heyes' eyes widened and he nodded. 

     Pete rushed forward.  "Did you know you're one of my idols?"

     Heyes met Curry's gaze across the room.  The Kid shook his head furiously, but Heyes couldn't think of anything else to say, but, "Idol, huh?"


End file.
